


looks a little dangerous

by ArgentLives



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: (it all works out though), Alternate Universe - High School, Crushes, F/F, High School, Pining, Some Pestering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 06:42:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5656375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgentLives/pseuds/ArgentLives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the League of Assassins is not the best source for a modern education, and Nyssa is sent to a place that’s far scarier. </p><p>  <em>Public school.</em></p><p> <br/>[AKA the Lauryssa High School AU that technically someone did ask for]</p>
            </blockquote>





	looks a little dangerous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IrreverentFangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrreverentFangirl/gifts).



> This was written for the wonderful [Ray](http://gxldenglider.tumblr.com/) who was a 'winner' of one of the 2k fics in a fic giveaway I did months ago (and I'm just getting to writing everything now because I'm the worst); They requested a Lauryssa high school au so...I tried! This skips around a lot...fair warning? Also this is obviously more than 2k, because I can't stick to my own parameters, apparently.

“Laurel,” Felicity sighed, kicking her under the lunch table to get her attention. For the third time. “We all know you want to ask. Please, just ask already, before she notices you staring and comes over here to kill us all.”

Laurel frowned, shifting a bit so that her legs were angled away from the impending danger of Felicity’s heels, and waved her off absently. Her eyes had a slightly glassy look to them, staring straight past the spot right between Felicity and Tommy’s heads and at something—or someone, rather—in the distance. As in, like, four tables down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Suuure you don’t,” Helena teased, digging an elbow into Laurel’s side. “You’ve been making heart-eyes at that girl across the cafeteria for like, a solid three minutes now. You didn’t even say anything when I offered you the rest of my goldfish. You _love_ goldfish.”

“Okay, fine,” she huffed, reluctantly tearing her gaze away from the subject of her interest to glare at her nosy group of friends. “Who is she, then? Is she in our year? I’ve never seen her before. Statistically speaking, at least one of you has to know.”

“Well, actually, considering there’s only five of us compared to the number of people in this school, statistically it would…uh…” Felicity started to argue, but she trailed off when Laurel groaned in exasperation, holding up a hand to silence her.

“Felicity, I know that it’s not actually—it was a _joke,_ okay?”

“Right. Sorry.”

Laurel shook her head affectionately before turning her attention back to the rest of their group, an eager, expectant look on her face. Predictably, Tommy, who was easily one of the most popular kids in the school thanks to his long-standing friendship with the rich-and-famous-and- _rich_ Oliver Queen, knew the answer. Thanks to his status at the top of the teenage-drama food chain, it was rare for him not to know every piece of gossip that floated around Central High, or have the scoop on each and every out-of-place student.

“New girl. And yeah, she’s in our year. Her name’s Nyssa.” _Nyssa_ , Laurel mused, silently mulling it over and smiling a bit at the way it rang in her ears. _Such a pretty name_. “She transferred from…actually, I have no idea where she’s from. I’m not so sure that she’s told anyone. I don’t think she’s really said much at all, to be honest, just...glared daggers at people who tried to approach her. I haven’t been in a class with her yet, but I heard she’s really weird—Carrie’s words, not mine,” he added in a rush when Laurel leveled him with her best glare. “I mean, I don’t know about weird, but to me she just seems sort of…terrifying.”

“Terrifying?” Laurel laughed, her eyes drifting over to Nyssa again as the girl took a rather aggressive bite from her sandwich, eyeing it warily all the while before dropping it back down on her tray with a look of mild disgust, her nose crinkling at the sight of it. “Oh, come on, more like amazing.”

“Are you kidding? She’s pretty, yeah, but…Laurel, she looks _dangerous_ ,” Joanna huffed, following her line of vision and wincing sympathetically as Nyssa stabbed the innocent sandwich before her with her fork. Which was…okay, maybe a little odd—why did she even _have_ a fork for a sandwich and fries?—but Laurel liked odd. And she definitely liked dangerous.

“Exactly.” She licked her lips, her eyes meeting Nyssa’s for half-a-second before she remembered it was probably creepy to stare, and that she should definitely look away if she even wanted entertain the possibility of a chance with this girl. Felicity dropped her head into her hands with a groan as Joanna rubbed her back sympathetically, Helena observed her nails with the perfect air of boredom, and Tommy made a strangled noise in the back of his throat.

“You can’t be serious, Laurel. Remember what happened last time?”

“That was—it wasn’t _that_ bad. And hey, we’re still friends. Aren’t we, Helena?”

Helena gave a noncommittal grunt in lieu of an answer, but Laurel could see the corners of her lips twitch up in a smile, which was more than enough of a confirmation for her.

“I’m just saying, you have a tendency to go for, ah, bad girls.”

“Not bad,” Joanna corrected him, and Felicity hummed in agreement, popping another spoonful of yogurt into her mouth. “More like…scary?”

“I am not _that_ scary,” Helena scoffed, and was instantly met with four pairs of incredulous eyes. She sighed, pretending to be put out, but was obviously preening a little at the comment, the smirk on her lips growing wider. “Okay, point taken.”

“Damn right,” Tommy muttered, averting his eyes, because while Helena had mostly warmed up to the girls in their group, and vice versa, she still never failed to terrify him. “But seriously, Laurel—”

“I plead the fifth,” she shrugged, brushing off his concern. She glanced discreetly at the clock on the wall at the back of the cafeteria, and steeled herself as she realized she only had fifteen minutes left to do this. And she was going to do this. “Hey, Helena, can I borrow that?” Before Helena could even ask what she wanted to borrow in the first place, Laurel was already tugging the leather jacket off her friend’s shoulders.

“Help yourself?” Helena said, more amused than annoyed, taking pity on Laurel as she struggled to remove it and shrugging the jacket the rest of the way off. She handed it over with a smirk, knowing exactly what Laurel wanted it for, and watched her frantically pull her arms into it, swallowing up her white V-neck.

“How do I look?”

Helena laughed, amusement dancing in her eyes, as Laurel pouted her lips out and modelled the jacket for them. “Like you’re trying too hard to be cool.”

“Shut up, it’s your jacket!” She hit Helena’s shoulder, and Tommy covered up his snort of laughter behind his hand. “I’m serious!”

“You look fine,” Felicity cut in, waving her spoon at Laurel. “But what exactly do you need it for?”

“I want to make a good impression, of course. I’m going to go introduce myself,” Laurel made up her mind easily, tamping down any lingering feelings of nervousness, and slid out from her seat next to Helena, giving her outfit one final glance-over and brushing off a stray piece of lettuce stuck to her jeans. She took a deep breath, steeling herself, and started off in Nyssa’s direction, thanking her lucky stars that her group always chose to sit at the end of the table so that it wasn’t too much of a hassle to get out.

“Laurel, wait!” Felicity’s voice called out after her, an edge of panic to it, and she almost turned around just to see the dumbstruck expressions on her friends’ faces. Well, aside from Helena, who no doubt was still watching her with that same knowing smirk. But no—she couldn’t turn back now, or she might lose her nerve. And she was so close now, only three tables away…two…one… _there_. She let out a deep breath and fastened on her best and brightest smile, ignoring the fact that Nyssa had been glaring at her, watching her approach with those steely eyes and that same sharp expression since she’d noticed her coming towards her two tables ago.

“Hi! Nyssa, right? I’m Laurel Lance,” Laurel held out her hand, but Nyssa made not move to take it, and in the end she brought it up to run her fingers through her hair like that was what she’d meant to do all along, desperate to hang onto at least a shred of her dignity, before letting it drop awkwardly back to her side. She cleared her throat and gestured vaguely to the vacant spot across directly from Nyssa. The whole table was mostly vacant, actually, now that she cared to take notice, the only other people sitting squished at the far other end, giving Nyssa a wide berth of space and occasionally sending anxious glances her way. Laurel resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Mind if I sit?”

Nyssa didn’t answer, just stared at her as if she’d suddenly grown two heads, with a mixture of what might’ve been surprise and what was definitely irritation. Well, technically it wasn’t a no. So Laurel shrugged, and she sat, swinging her legs over the bench with caution, careful not to accidentally kick the girl across from her in the shins.

“So, you just moved here, right?” No answer, not even a nod, and suddenly Laurel found herself floundering for something to say—a feeling she wasn’t exactly used to. It wasn’t a good one, and God, was this how Felicity felt all the time? _Poor girl._ “Uh, I’m sure you want to get involved in stuff, now that you’re here. I just wanted to say I can help you there—that is, I’m pretty involved, myself. It makes the time pass faster. What kind of, uh, stuff are you interested in?” When the girl still didn’t respond, instead just continued to level her with that cool, calculating glare, Laurel pressed on. After all, she was nothing if not perseverant. “I do boxing, mostly. And I’m in the pre-law club, because I’m planning on going into law—obviously. Everyone tells me, ‘Oh, Laurel, you don’t know for sure yet. You could change your mind once you get to college.’ But I know. I’ve always known…you know.”

“Fascinating.”

Laurel narrowed her eyes at her, because it was clear that she didn’t find Laurel’s career interests very fascinating at all. In fact, she appeared to be directing the word to the French fry she’d just picked up from her tray and was currently dangling in front of her face, examining it like she’d never seen anything like it. Maybe she hadn’t, Laurel mused.

“It’s a French fry,” Laurel deadpanned, eager to at least get a conversation going about something. “You eat it.”

“I figured,” Nyssa quirked an eyebrow at her, tearing her gaze away from the greasy piece of food as though it pained her to acknowledge Laurel’s existence. “I may not from around here, but I am not stupid. If they are serving it with an afternoon meal then of course I can only assume it’s for consumption. I’ve just never seen anything like it, back in the—back home.”

“Speaking of, where _are_ you from?” At least she was talking now, and Laurel seized the opportunity to get more information out of her strange new acquaintance. “French fries are, like, a universal thing.”

“Clearly not,” Nyssa scoffed, rolling the fry between her fingers and scrunching her nose up at the stain of grease it left in its wake. Laurel immediately took notice of the way she’d evaded her question, but decided it was best not to push. After all, Nyssa _did_ look a little dangerous. “What is it made of?”

“Potatoes. And a lot of salt. All fried up.”

“You insult my intelligence,” Nyssa narrowed her eyes at Laurel again, pointing the fry in her direction in accusation. “There is no way this atrocity is a potato. I know potatoes.”

“Cross my heart and swear to die. Not literally,” she clarified, stifling a laugh at Nyssa’s slightly alarmed expression. “It’s an expression. But seriously, if you’re not going to eat it, I will. I’ll take all your fries, actually, if you don’t want them. All I packed today was a stupid salad.”

Nyssa kept her lips pressed into a thin line, refusing to answer, her gaze flickering briefly back down to her tray with obvious curiosity before snapping back up again in defiance. Laurel rolled her eyes and plucked the French fry out of Nyssa’s fingers, and it was worth it for the dumbfounded expression on the girl’s face as she popped it into her mouth. “See? Delicious.”

She licked the grease from her fingers with deliberation, watching Nyssa’s reaction all the while, silently taking notes. And wouldn’t you know it, the girl’s gaze did seem to be fixed on her mouth, a spark of something like interest underneath the steeliness in her eyes. _Good,_ Laurel thought, licking her fingers clean and keeping her eyes on Nyssa all the while. She could work with that.

Laurel swallowed and cleared her throat, not even bothering to hide her grin, and Nyssa tore her gaze away, snatching up a fry from her plate and shoving it into her mouth, chewing it with more force than necessary, like she was angry with herself for staring. Her expression quickly morphed from one of irritation to one of wonder, though, as she swallowed, and then she actually _smiled_.  

“Oh, that _is_ quite good,” Nyssa said, hiding her grin behind her fingers, clearly self-conscious about the simple act of smiling without smirking. Laurel wanted to tell her not to be, that she should really keep smiling like that forever because _wow_ it was nice and as much as she loved dangerous, _cute_ and dangerous was even better. She opened her mouth to say something, her mind working furiously to come up with something clever, but before she could the bell rang, jolting her out of the cute-girl-induced daze she’d gotten herself into and signaling the end of lunch.

“We should do this again sometime. You should come sit with my friends and I, tomorrow,” Laurel said, swinging her backpack over her shoulder—really, her next class was at the other end of the building, and she always had to rush to make it there on time—and flashing Nyssa a parting smile. She didn’t stick around to see the expression on Nyssa’s face, but she did catch her spluttered ‘ _Excuse_ me?’ as she hurried away and felt her heavy stare at her back, deciding that it had been more than she’d been hoping for, anyway. At least Nyssa hadn’t tried to stab her with her fork, or anything. Felicity would be happy to hear it.

 

* * *

 

 

Laurel placed her bag of lunch in front of her, but instead of taking out her food she folded her hands in front of her, tilting her head at Nyssa and regarding her with poorly concealed curiosity. After a few moments of staring, Nyssa finally sighed and put her sandwich down, lifting her eyes from her tray to acknowledge Laurel’s presence. _Success._

“Can I help you?”

“Aww, come on, drop the formality, Nyssa. I thought we were moving towards the whole ‘friends’ thing. We’ve eaten lunch together all week, and you haven’t asked me to leave you alone in, like, three days now. I still hold that you should consider eating with my group, though. They’d like you.”

Nyssa’s lips pressed together in a thin line, but Laurel was momentarily taken aback when she didn’t try to refute it. Instead, she just shrugged, and gestured to Laurel to get on with whatever was obviously on her mind. _Interesting._

Laurel shook off her shock, reminding herself she had more pressing matters to get to the bottom of. And a lot of digging to do, to determine if—well, if she had any chance with Nyssa at all as maybe more than friends. Friends was nice too, of course, but she’d heard enough whispers and Tommy had given her enough dirt to wonder whether she might have a shot at this, after all. “So. I heard Oliver Queen asked you out last period.”

“Mmm,” Nyssa peeled her orange with practiced indifference, clearly unimpressed by the reminder. “Yes, thank you, I actually thought I had managed to repress the memory of that particular occurrence, until now.”

“Sorry,” Laurel winced, but forced herself to go on, desperate for information. “I heard Eddie has been trying to get your number.”

“Oh, is that his name? Insufferable, that one.”

Time to go in for the kill, she thought, reminding herself not to be too pushy, or force anything out of Nyssa. Just…see if she could glean anything from Nyssa’s careful responses, or even better, if Nyssa might just tell her outright after all. A girl could hope. “I heard there’s a lot of boys who are interested in you. Seriously, you’re the hot new girl—you could have them all falling at your feet. Probably already do. What’s up, you trying to play hard to get?”

Nyssa wrinkled her nose in disgust at the suggestion, finally letting out an exaggerated sigh. “I am simply not interested, _Laurel_. I don’t see the appeal.”

“Oh.” Laurel worried her bottom lip between her teeth, unsure of how to respond. “That’s—”

“What about you?” Nyssa cut her off, carefully placing her half-peeled orange back down on her tray and lifting an eyebrow at her. “Do you? See the appeal? It seems every girl in this place is all over these…children. I have to say, it is a bit disheartening.”

“Appeal in what?” Laurel swallowed hard, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

Nyssa hummed thoughtfully, resuming her orange-peeling, but there was an obvious uncertainty in the clumsy way her fingers moved—a stark contrast to the usual easy confidence she commanded. “In men. In this case, boys, I suppose. Or just in relationships.”

“Oh,” Laurel let out a laugh, surprised that Nyssa was the one bringing it up, and certain that she was blushing. “The first one, I guess. Well…I mean I _know_ , actually.”

“Well, we do have some things in common after all, then, other than a mutual appreciation for the lunchtime snacks you’ve introduced me to.”

“Oh,” Laurel repeated, at a loss for really anything else to say, since if she were to actually attempt anything else she’d be jumping for joy and making an absolute fool out of herself. Because _yes, thank you God, she had a chance_. “You know, you should come with me to our Starling Pride meeting after school next Tuesday. Meet some people who have the same tastes as us. We can talk about it all out in the open, without worrying about people being assholes. Come on, if nothing else, they always have free food.”

“Hmm,” Nyssa considered her, tilting her head in thought. “Where there be French fries?”

“Well, no…but they’ll probably have potato chips? Which are kind of like French fries, only…thinner.”

Nyssa considered it for a moment, finally giving Laurel one of those rare, softer smiles of hers. “Alright. You have my attention.”

 

* * *

 

 

By the time next Tuesday rolled around, the meeting went about as well as could have been expected, dragging Nyssa along. Which was to say…it was interesting, at the very least.

“Okay, so I see some unfamiliar faces here today. How about we go around the room and introduce ourselves again, yeah? Laurel, I see you’ve brought a friend!” Mrs. Bern beamed, turning her attention to Nyssa. “How about you start, dear. I don’t believe we’ve seen you here before.”

Nyssa bristled, sitting tense in her chair, back straight and chin tilted up, sizing up Mrs. Bern, the club advisor, like she wanted to know exactly who was asking. “I am Nyssa al Ghul, Heir to the Demon, and I—” she stopped herself, biting her tongue like she’d somehow forgotten where she was, and shook her head vigorously as if that would erase what she’d already said. “I mean—my father is a…baker. Of very hot foods. Hence…Demon. It’s a…family business.”

“She’s, uh…” Laurel blinked, gaze sweeping the room and taking in all the baffled expressions reflected back at her, and patted Nyssa’s shoulder awkwardly. Fuck, she really needed to get to know this girl better, and what her deal was—her cover-up lies were clearly that: cover ups. She’d heard Nyssa mention the ‘heir to the demon’ thing before, along with some other moderate-to-severely concerning things—it seems to slip out sometimes when Nyssa didn’t mean for it too and she’d kick herself afterwards, like she was trying to break a long-standing habit or something. Laurel wondered what exactly it was she could be hiding. “She’s new.”

“Right,” Mrs. Bern cleared her throat awkwardly, and gestured for the group to continue. “Glad to have you here, Nyssa. Laurel, dear? You’re next.”

Okay, so it maybe hadn’t been her best idea. Nyssa liked the potato chips though, and she definitely liked girls, so maybe it wasn’t a complete loss, after all.

 

* * *

 

 

“You have clubs for the oddest things here,” Nyssa sighed, and Laurel nearly choked on the mouthful of goldfish she’d been chewing. It wasn’t exactly like Nyssa to start up a conversation—even as they’d begun grow closer, she still tended to remain to herself, and most of the time they sat in companionable silence unless Laurel was the one to break it.

“What do you mean?”

“Where I’m from, that sort of thing doesn’t matter. That meeting you had me go to the other day. Who you like. What you’re attracted to. It’s all irrelevant, really. Foolish. Such things are only distractions.”

“Oh,” Laurel considered that, wondering, not for the first time, if Nyssa would ever tell her where she was from, and why it was apparently such a big secret. “Well, it’d be cool to live there, then. Sounds like they’re much more accepting. Must be nice.”

“No,” Nyssa scowled, her expression suddenly darkening. If Tommy had thought Nyssa looked scary before, he’d probably be pissing himself he could see the look on her face now. “Trust me, you wouldn’t.”

“O-kaaay…fair enough,” Laurel said, sensing that it wasn’t wise to pry, taking in the closed off of set to Nyssa’s shoulders. She’d like to think she’d gotten pretty good at reading her, knew more than what Nyssa would like people to see at surface value, under that cool exterior. “Well, listen, since you weren’t interested in that…how do you feel about sports?”

“Sports?”

“Yeah, you could join the kick-boxing team with me. You seem pretty strong, and we’re always looking for new members. You don’t have to, but…I think it might be nice, if you got involved in some stuff here. It’s still the beginning of the year, so you wouldn’t have missed much, and it’s not too late to get your papers in and all.”

“I don’t know…”

“At least come to practice after school with me? Just to watch. See if you might be interested. We can go out for milkshakes after—Helena promised she’d take me, and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you joined. After all, I did promise you that I’d introduce you to all the wonders of unhealthy foods, and I intend to keep that promise. I have a list.”

“Well…” Nyssa gave a half-hearted shrug, “I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Where on Earth did you learn to do _that_?” Laurel panted from where she was lying on the ground, winded and with Nyssa literally on top her. Because she’d totally just kicked her ass. Seriously, she’d thought Nyssa had simply been posturing, putting on her typical ‘better than you’ act when she’d approached Laurel after practice, demanding where and how they’d—as in the whole kick-boxing team—had been trained, because it was, in her words, ‘severely lacking.’

Laurel had pouted, seriously put out because a) she’d really been hoping to impress Nyssa (she was the best on the team, after all), and b) their training was just fine, thank-you-very-much, and Coach Grant did his best. And so as everyone had been filtering into the locker room, leaving Laurel and Nyssa alone with each other, Laurel had squared her shoulders and insisted that if Nyssa was _such_ an expert and knew _oh-so-much more_ about how it was done, then she should prove it. Show her herself. Nyssa’s eyes had been bright, a challenging smile playing on her lips, when she’d responded with “If you insist.”

Which was how they’d ended up like this, not even two minutes later, Nyssa smirking triumphantly as she pushed herself off of Laurel—and that _so_ wasn’t disappointment Laurel was feeling at the sudden loss of contact, nope, not at all—rocking back to sit on her heels and not even remotely out of breath. She hadn’t even broken a sweat, Laurel thought bitterly, and she’d pinned Laurel underneath her like she hadn’t even been trying.  

“Seriously, Nyssa, how—?”

It didn’t escape Laurel’s noticed how Nyssa’s smirk slipped a little at the question, as she flipped her hair over her shoulder and stared at a spot on the mat just to the right of Laurel’s head, eyes slightly unfocused. “It doesn’t matter.”

“No, seriously,” Laurel insisted, her irritation quickly melting away into grudging admiration. “I’ve never seen anything like that, and I’m the team’s best boxer. Compared to you though…”

“My… _family_ had me trained in combat as soon as I was old enough to stand. Learning to fight has always been high on the list of priorities, where I’m from.”

“Really?” Laurel frowned, mulling that over. “Your parents would force that on such a young kid?”

“My father,” Nyssa’s clarified, her expression darkening. She stood, massaging her knuckles and carefully avoiding Laurel’s questioning gaze. “It’s complicated. And I do not wish to discuss it right now.”

“I’m sorry,” Laurel said, and she meant it, pushing herself to her feet so that she could lay a tentative hand on Nyssa’s arm. Nyssa didn’t shrug it off, at least, so she decided to test her luck a bit, and gave it a comforting squeeze. “I’ll drop it, promise. But I do have another question.”

“…go on.”

“You don’t have to tell me the details about how you learned all this stuff, but can you…can you teach me?” Laurel cracked a grin, trying to ease some of the tension, and hazarded a playful shove to Nyssa’s shoulder. “That is, if you’re not sick of me yet.”

“No,” Nyssa said slowly, as though the thought was new to her, a slight frown on her lips but a softness to her eyes that Laurel hadn’t quite seen before. “These past weeks with you have been… _enlightening_. I would be honored to teach you what I know.”

Her stomach did a little flip at the prospect of meeting with Nyssa like this on a regular basis, training, working up a sweat and— _wait, enlightening_? It took Laurel’s mind a minute to catch up with the word, and when it did the significance of it hit her like a ton of bricks. Did Nyssa really think…?

“Enlightening, huh? In a good way, I hope?”

A smile curled Nyssa’s lips, somehow simultaneously sweet and predatory, like she knew exactly how she was making Laurel’s pulse race right now, was fully aware of the way her heart was pounding away in her chest, and perfectly pleased that she was the cause of it. “As good as French fries.”

“I…is that a compliment?”

Nyssa laced their fingers together, pulling Laurel towards the locker room, and because she was her beautiful, weird, wonderful self, she brought Laurel’s hand up to her lips to kiss her bruised knuckles. “It is.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Gah I hope you liked it! Thanks for being your awesome self <3


End file.
